The Captain nodded ahead at the haze curtaining all the horizon. "If we catch 'em," he replied. The signal platform was awhirl with bunting; the voice of the Chief Yeoman repeating hoists rose above the stamp of feet and the flapping of flags in the wind. Thorogood turned to the Navigator. "Will you take on now?" he asked in a low voice. "If the balloon's really going up this time I'd better get along to my battery." As he descended the ladder the upper-deck was ringing with bugle-calls, and the turrets' crews were already swarming round their guns. From the hatchways leading to the lower-deck came a great roar of cheering. Men poured up on their way to their action stations in a laughing, rejoicing throng. Mouldy Jakes, with the ever-faithful Midshipman of his turret at his side, was hurrying to his beloved guns, and greeted Thorogood as he passed with a sidelong jerk of the head and the first whole-souled smile of enjoyment a mess-mate had ever surprised on his face. Further aft the Captain of Marines was standing on the roof of his slowly revolving turret: "Buck up, James," he shouted merrily. "'Johnnie, get your gun, there's a cat in the garden'--We're going to see Life in a minute, my lad!" He was right, but they were also destined to see Death, holding red carnival. Thorogood waved his arm and shouted an inarticulate reply as he ran aft to the hatchway leading to the cabin flat. Officers were rushing past on their way to their posts, exchanging chaff and conjecture as they went. Thorogood descended to the cabin flat, jerked back the curtain of his cabin, and hurriedly entered the familiar apartment. Opening a drawer he snatched up a gas-mask and a packet containing first-aid appliances which he thrust into the pocket of his swimming waistcoat, together with a flask and a small tin of compressed meat lozenges. Once before, earlier in the war, he had fought for life clinging to a floating spar. Then succour had come in a comparatively short time, but the experience had not been without its lesson. He made for the door again and then paused on the threshold hesitatingly. "Might as well," he said, and turning back picked up a small photograph in a folding morocco frame and thrust it half-shamefacedly into an inside pocket. As he emerged into the flat again he met Gerrard, the Assistant Paymaster, struggling into a thick coat outside the door of his cabin. "Hullo!" laughed the A.P. "Having a last look at the old home, James?" Thorogood patted his pockets. "Just taking in provisions in case I have to spend the week-end on a raft. What's your action station?" "Fore-top," was the reply. "Taking notes of the action. Now, have I got everything? Thermos flask--watch--note-book--glasses--right! _En avant, mon brave!_"